'So totally gung-ho,' Carter said.
'Thank you, Carter, my thought exactly. Pete, tell Henry Morrison he's now in charge of crowd control out on 119. And use the access road'.
'I really think - '
'Carter, get the door for him.'
5
'Oh my God,' Linda said, and swerved the van to the left. It bumped up over the curb not a hundred yards from where Main and Highland intersected. All three girls laughed at the bump, but poor little Aidan only looked scared, and grabbed the longsufFering Audrey's head once more.
'What?'Thurse snapped.' What?
She parked on someone's lawn, behind a tree. It was a good-sized oak, but the van was big, too, and the oak had lost most of its listless leaves. She wanted to believe they were hidden but couldn't.
'That's Jim Rennie's Hummer sitting in the middle of the goddam intersection.'
'You swore big,'Judy said. 'Two quarters in the swear-jar.'
Thurse craned. 'Are you sure?'
'Do you think anybody else in town has a vehicle that humon-gous?'
'Oh Jesus,' Thurston said.
'Swear-jar!'This time Judy and Jannie said it together.
Linda felt her mouth dry up, and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Thibodeau was emerging from the Hummer's passenger side, and if he looked this way...
If he sees us, I'm going to run him down, she thought. The idea brought a certain perverse calm.
Thibodeau opened the back door of the Hummer. Peter Randolph got out.
'That man is picking his seat,' Alice Appleton informed the company at large. 'My mother says that means you're going to the movies.'
Thurston Marshall burst out laughing, and Linda, who would have said she didn't have a laugh anywhere in her, joined him. Soon they were all laughing, even Aidan, who certainly didn't know what they were laughing about. Linda wasn't sure she did, either.
Randolph headed down the hill on foot, still yanking at the seat of his uniform trousers. There was no reason for it to be as funny, and that made it funnier.
Not wanting to be left out, Audrey began to bark.
6
Somewhere a dog was barking.
Big Jim heard it, but didn't bother turning around. Watching Peter Randolph stride down the hill suffused him with well-being.
'Look at him picking his pants out of his butt,' Carter remarked. 'My father used to say that meant you were going to the movies.'
'The only place he's going is out to WCIK,' Big Jim said, 'and if he's bullheaded about making a frontal assault, it's likely to be the last place he ever goes. Let's go down to the Town Hall and watch this carnival on TV for awhile. When that becomes tiresome, I want you to find the hippy doctor and tell him if he tries to scoot off somewhere, we'll run him down and throw him in jail.'
'Yes, sir.' This was duty he didn't mind. Maybe he could take another run at ex-officer Everett, this time get her pants off.
Big Jim put the Hummer in gear and rolled slowly down the hill, honking at people who didn't; get out of his way quickly enough.
As soon as he had turned into the Town Hall driveway, the Odyssey van rolled through the intersection and headed out of town. There was no foot traffic on Upper Highland Street, and Linda accelerated rapidly. Thurse Marshall began singing 'The Wheels on the Bus,' and soon all the kids were singing with him.
Linda, who felt a little more terror leave her with each tenth of a mile the odometer turned, soon began to sing along.
7
Visitors Day has come to Chester's Mill, and a mood of eager anticipation fills the people walking out Route 119 toward the Dinsmore farm, where Joe McClatchey's demonstration went so wrong just five days ago. They are hopeful (if not exactly happy) in spite of that memory - also in spite of the heat and smelly air. The horizon beyond the Dome now appears blurred, and above the trees, the sky has darkened, due to accumulated particulate matter. It's better when you look straight up, but still not right; the blue has a yellowish cast, like a film of cataract on an old man's eye.
'It's how the sky used to look over the paper mills back in the seventies, when they were running full blast,' says Henrietta Clavard - she of the not-quite-broken ass. She offers her bottle of ginger ale to Petra Searles, who's walking beside her.
'No, thank you,' Petra says, 'I have some water.'
'Is it spiked with vodka?' Henrietta inquires.'Because this is. Half and half, sweetheart; I call it a Canada Dry Rocket.'
Petra takes the bottle and downs a healthy slug. 'Yow!' she says.